Opalescent Reflections
House of Cards
Chapter 12
Huntsvil, Camlann
Benjamin District, Draconis Combine
4 August 3051
It had amazed Tyra to be allowed out of bed so soon. However, the doctor assured her that she had mostly recovered and that it was more important for her to engage in moderate physical activity, even if her neck would need to remain braced for a week or two.
Silly her, she had assumed that this would be some kind of in-patient rehab.
"Bondswoman Tyra," the clerk observed boredly, checking a status sheet. "Suited for light duties… bond-holder…" He shook his head. "General labor pool then."
Tyra stood at something like parade rest. "And if I refuse to work for Clan Smoke Jaguar?"
The woman didn't even look up. "Do you think you are the first to ask that? Your bond-holder could do anything they wanted but since they died in the fighting it defaults to caste discipline." She looked up at Tyra. "No work, no food. Of course, in your medical condition that might have long term consequences. Do you really want to follow that route, quineg?"
"How many have?"
The woman looked down at her paperwork. "I could not tell you. Perhaps here in the luxury of the Inner Sphere you are used to layabouts being supported but that is not the case among the Clans." She pointed over at a bench built into the wall. "Sit over there. If you are still unwilling to work by dinner time, you will be taken to somewhere you can starve quietly."
"Why keep me if that's all your Clan expects. You don't have enough people to sweep floors?"
"Bondswoman, you are Clan Smoke Jaguar's now. In what universe does anyone give up what is theirs? Much less to an enemy?" The clerk looked up, irritated now. "Records say that you are a pilot. With modest retraining you could serve as a technician maintaining or operating cargo aircraft or something similar. It is less expense to spend time making you trustworthy than to train someone from the beginning."
Tyra would have laughed at that if it wasn't so ridiculous. "I'm a fighter pilot, better than some of you Jaguars."
"You were." The woman stood. "Now you are a bondsman and Clan Smoke Jaguar does not trust freeborn with weapons. Now sit down or accept your assignment." She slapped her desk and the papers there. "You are not the only person I must deal with today."
Reflecting that right now she probably couldn't overpower even this woman, much less back-up that could no doubt be called up, Tyra turned and walked to the bench. She sat on the hard surface, leant her head against the wall and considered her options, watching as a succession of men and women walked in, turning in assignments and being given new ones.
It all seemed innocuous, nothing really that she hadn't seen being done at a dozen bases. The difference was mainly that rather than uniformed soldiers carrying out the work these were civilians - civilians and bondsmen wearing cords that marked them out. Were they Kungsarme? ComGuards? Few of them even looked at her, and save for the cords there seemed little between them.
Wasn't it their duty to fight back? Wasn't it hers? How could the daughter of the Iron Jarl bow to a conqueror, a tyrant?
Except, her father had.
All reports made it clear that Gunzburg had surrendered without a shot fired. To Clan Wolf, not Clan Smoke Jaguar, but all the same…
Draconis Ronin hadn't beaten Tor Miraborg. Nor had Lyran mercenaries. But the Clans had… somehow.
How much did she even know about them? Tyra clenched her fists. They had burned Reykjavik. But the doctor had also seemed glad that the one who ordered it was dead. Aside from second-hand briefings based on information from the Wolf Dragoons almost all her contact with the Clans was through the crosshairs of her Shilone.
Not that she had a Shilone anymore. Or much of anything.
Everything Tyra had access to now was from her captors - her flightsuit and gear had been taken and it didn't seem likely she'd get it back. What keepsakes she had left were back at the airbase and had probably been given to General Mansdottir by now. They might even believe she was dead.
What was left to her?
Tyra hung her head as far as she could with her neck trapped in the brace. Could she escape? She knew she had been moved from the Smoke Jaguar's original landing zone to Huntsvil, one of the targets of Clan Wolf. She knew that that Clan had succeeded but that there had been enough failures that Camlann was safe and the Clans would eventually withdraw back to Orestes, Gunzburg and the scores of other worlds - hundreds of other worlds - that they had conquered.
Could she escape? Capture a vehicle - she would need one to reach friendly lines. The Midland Sea region being almost entirely uninhabited meant that she would have no real chance of local help.
And as much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, the neckbrace wasn't the only reminder of her injury. Tyra wasn't sure she had the stamina for days or weeks hiking. Particularly if she needed to carry supplies for that.
No, she would need time to recover. And by that point, she suspected she would not be on Camlann any more.
Which… might not be the worst thing. On another occupied world, chances are that she could find someone willing to help her get away from the Smoke Jaguars. There had to be resistance groups and her military training would be of some use.
But she couldn't do that if she was starving, which meant…
Tyra went over the problem several times. Survival and escape, versus pride.
When the clerk took a break and began eating her lunch, hunger tipped the balance. Tyra waited for the woman to finish before pushing herself upright and walking to the desk.
The clerk looked up at her, not even slightly excited? "Well?"
"What do you want me to do?"
Checking her desk, the woman rifled through a stack of documents before finding the one she wanted. "This should be within your capabilities. Go to medical bay four and report to Star Captain Trent. He's confined to bed so he will need someone to fetch and carry. The medical staff may also have requests for you, but the Star Captain takes priority."
Tyra cursed inwardly. "Alright." She was pretty sure she could find her way.
"And Bondswoman?" The clerk stamped the document and started scribbling on it. "Watch your language. We speak proper English and your superiors need not stop at verbally correcting whatever slurring comes out of your mouth."
The pilot's shoulders tightened at the reminder - not so much of the language issue but at her vulnerability. She wasn't an officer, much less the daughter of a Valdherre. She was just property in their eyes. Little more than an animal.
The chill did not desert Tyra as she returned to the medical bays. Bay four was signposted clearly and it didn't take her long to find it - one of a line of private recovery rooms. The door was slightly ajar and she heard a woman laugh. "Apparently, the battle damaged your memory as well as your body, Trent. If you ever get access to my reports of the incident, you will see that it was I who saved you."
Tyra froze and then pressed herself against the wall. Whatever was going on in there, she doubted either side would appreciate a bondsman as a witness.
A second voice - the Star Captain she had been assigned to? - answered: "Benjamin Howell warned me that politics was another form of war. It strikes me that someone who falsifies battle reports is better at politics than they are at combat."
"If you want something else to strike you, you can call for a trial of grievance," the woman told him. "And we will see who is the better warrior there. Both of our 'mechs are gone so there are no BattleROMs. Your word versus mine and we both know you are in no condition to challenge me."
So much for the honor of Clan warriors, Tyra thought.
"I will not always be confined to this bed," the man warned ominously. "I have known you since our days in the sibko. I know the truth and we were both taught that knowledge is a powerful weapon."
"We were also taught that the victor receives the spoils. I have a list of victories over Rasalhague mechwarriors to offset our defeat here on Camlann, you have a catalog of wounds that mark you as one of those whose weakness led to our failure," the woman crowed. "There is a bloodright open in the Howell bloodline and I have received nomination for it. By the time you are fit to pilot a 'mech again, you will be challenging a bloodnamed warrior."
Tyra almost burst in at the mention of her dead comrades, hating the woman for the boast. But that would just end her life. If she wanted justice for them, she would need to wait.
"Either that or you will be dead," the man snapped. "Victory in a trial of bloodright is never assured, and no one will let you alter the records to claim a victory you have not earned."
The door slammed open and Tyra had a brief impression of a tall, dusky woman before she was shoved off her feet and crashed against the other wall, slipping down it to sit facing the wall.
Apparently caring nothing for Tyra now that she had been pushed away, the warrior stormed out, leaving Tyra to pull herself upright. Her elbows and the back of her head hurt but it seemed not to be so bad. Nonetheless, she took a moment to check carefully for any bleeding. The last thing she needed was another concussion.
Finding no blood and reasonably confident she wasn't showing any of the other symptoms of such, Tyra forced herself to enter the open door. At least the warrior in there was unlikely to be able to assault her.
There was, unsurprisingly, only one occupant now. The man who lay on the medical bed was covered as much by bandages as he was by skin or a thin hospital gown. Like every Clan Warrior that Tyra had met so far, he had an athletic build, but his lower face was a thing of horror. Flesh had been seared away from his jaw and throat, what remained covered with synth-skin that was far from a full reconstruction.
Despite herself, Tyra could only compare this to the scar that decorated her father's face. This was far worse. On the other hand, she reminded herself, this Star Captain would be able to walk again.
"Who are you?" the man asked curiously.
"K…" She remembered her rank no longer mattered. "A bondswoman. I am told you need someone to fetch and carry."
"Ah." He raised his arm - a mechanical one - and moved the fingers slowly and deliberately. "Well, I have few needs at the moment, but it is… considerate for someone to be assigned. Close the door, please."
Tyra obeyed, noting the last word. She hadn't expected the courtesy.
"Manners cost me nothing," he told her, apparently noticing her surprise. "And those who mistake it for weakness have paid the price. Thus far, at least. I am Star Captain Trent. Do you have a name, bondswoman?"
"Aff," she said shortly.
He waited a moment and then what was left of his lips curled into a scowl. "Like that then. Tell me your name."
"Tyra."
That got her a nod from Trent. "You were with the Kungsarme?"
"Aff."
"What was your duty there?"
"Pilot."
"You are tall for the role. How much did you hear earlier?"
"Most of -" She cut off, realizing it was a trap.
Trent nodded quietly. "I thought as much. Jez's carelessness already almost killed her. I will not save her when it endangers her again. I have little ability to protect you if she notices that you overheard, and if you cause me problems then I will have no motive to do so. Am I clear?"
"Aff."
The Star Captain shrugged. "Turn on the holovid," he said. "And then you may as well sit down. Perhaps there will be something to take both our minds off the sorry state of our lives."
Confused, Tyra found the controls and a little projector lit up, displaying a list of options in the air not far from the bottom of Trent's bed.
He frowned. "Trial of Absorption?! What has been happening while I was unconscious?"
Tyra had no idea what that even was, but took the hint to select the designated option and the display shifted to split-screens showing three 'mechs standing at the ready, two side by side and the third clearly some distance from the pair.
Huntsvil, Camlann
Benjamin District, Draconis Combine
4 August 3051
The cockpit of the Huntsman sat higher off the ground than Ace was accustomed to. The 'mech was also brand new, whereas the omnimechs he'd used before had always been older than he was. He'd only had a day to get used to it, but at least he hadn't had to wait for it to be configured.
The senior member of the Diamond Shark's merchant caste present on Camlann had made a little ceremony of presenting the Huntsman to Ace. The first production shipment had arrived just in time to be assigned to warriors on Camlann, but this one had been held back specifically to be shipped to him on Luthien. Since he was now here, the merchant saw no reason to wait.
"Clan Diamond Shark recognises the valor of the warriors who fought to protect our right to the Huntsman," Ace had been told. "Every mechwarrior who fought in that trial will be offered a Huntsman for their use in recognition of that victory."
It reminded Ace of the Nova he'd used earlier in his career. The upright stature took some getting used to, but it had the same level of agility and protection. Not quite as much as he'd been able to enjoy with a Stormcrow, but not bad. There was also a little more payload, and the 'mech was loaded with additional electronics and a small pulse laser, as well as his usual paired PPCs and the anti-missile system. The laser would be useful against infantry and Ace appreciated the gesture, even if it wouldn't be much use to him in this particular Trial.
"I expected you to use a Stormcrow," Orrel Polcyzk observed as the two sides moved into position on the circle of equals. They were out of direct line of sight - and ten kilometers apart - but until the trial actually began they could view each other on the public holovid channel that was broadcasting to those interested in Huntsvil. It was possible that even some of the ComGuards might be watching, gathering intelligence.
Ace settled back a little into his seat. "I am sorry to deny you the chance to find out who is the better Stormcrow pilot," he offered graciously. "But we must take the opportunity to show off one of Clan Diamond Shark's newest products for potential customers." He was at least half-convinced that was why he hadn't been given a spare Stormcrow for the occasion.
"It will be a poor advertisement when I kill you," Polcyzk warned. "I appreciate the honor your Khan shows in giving us a chance to fight on favorable terms, but make no mistake: we intend to win."
"I would be a fool to imagine that you intend anything else," Ace confirmed. Two to one odds were a bit much, particularly as he wasn't sure if the two Khans would honor zellbrigen and engage him one at a time, or if they would operate as a pair. He had to assume the latter, particularly given the stakes.
Both the Burrocks were in larger 'mechs than he was. Polcyzk's Stormcrow was loaded for short and medium range combat, a powerful autocannon in the left arm and a cluster of medium lasers in the other. He wouldn't be able to use his full armament without overheating severely, but either limb had enough firepower to wreck the Huntsman in short order.
Jocelyn Siddiq had elected to use a Mad Dog instead, fitting missiles either side of the torso and lasers in the arms. The left side of her omnimech was fitted for long range battle, with LRMs and a pair of extended range large lasers, while the other mounted SRMs and a trio of pulse lasers.
I am outgunned, Ace thought. But neither of them has jump jets. On open ground, Polcyzk might be able to use his speed to keep me from staying out of range of him, but we are not fighting on open ground.
The midpoint between Huntersvil and Colliervil had the ruins of a small town, some of which fell inside the designated circle. A river cutting through the town occupied a gorge, which had been bridged in three places but no longer was, and local trees had had over a century to grow back. None were as large as a 'mech but they would at least slow one down.
"Today we witness the Trial of Refusal called by Orrel Polcyzk against the motion to absorb Clan Burrock," Ulric Kerensky announced. The public channel cut off, meaning that Ace could no longer see the other two 'mechs. "Galaxy Commander Ace Enders defends the decision of the Grand Council and should he defeat the two Khans, Clan Burrock must surrender all its enclaves, warriors and other resources to Clan Diamond Shark. Should Khans Siddiq and Polcyzk prevail then Clan Burrock will stand reprieved of the Absorption. Do all participants swear to abide by this rede?"
"Seyla," Ace confirmed. He heard both Khans say the same.
"As the oathmaster I recognise your oaths," the Wolf Khan declared. "The trial begins, you may now exit the starting positions."
Ace needed no further hint and started the Huntsman forward, angling to his right and into the city. He didn't particularly want to run into either Burrock in the streets, but neither should have any experience of urban combat so there might be some advantages to him there that they wouldn't expect.
If they could kill him, they would. The Khans wanted their Clan to survive. Wanted the option Sennet had offered - enclaves in the Inner Sphere where at least some of Clan Burrock could survive even when the other Clans turned on them (because even winning this Trial of Refusal wouldn't make their sins evaporate, so excuses would be found). That would serve Clan Diamond Shark almost as well as an absorption, but Ace was not going to settle for an outcome that would probably kill him.
The Huntsman loped forwards steadily, Ace adjusting the electronic options available to him. The electronic counter-measures wouldn't make it possible for him to hide, as such, but they would make it harder to lock onto him with weapons. In particular, the tracking abilities of Khan Siddiq's weapons should be greatly reduced.
More useful as he entered the town, the active probe swept the area and gave him a more detailed idea of what he was dealing with than he had expected. The sophisticated sensors and computers worked to build a picture of what might be lurking around every corner.
Most of the buildings were simple residences and had fallen into disrepair. Ace ignored them and moved up into the core of the town, looking for industrial or commercial structures that were more solidly built. He kept one eye on his map - much of the settlement was outside the notional circle of equals and if he was judged to have exited then that would be an immediate victory for Clan Burrock.
Striding down long-abandoned streets, long since stripped by looters, Ace dismissed a multi-storey carpark that lay just outside the edge of the circle. Another possibility, some sort of warehouse, was dismissed when his sensors showed that it couldn't support the weight of his Huntsman.
Finally, he found what appeared to have been a school. Half the building had collapsed long ago but the active probe reported that the remainder had solid structural supports that should still be able to support his 'mech. Ace fired his jump jets, pleased to find that they responded just a hair faster than those of his Stormcrow - an advantage of being newer perhaps? Or just that they were part of the chassis rather than pod mounted? He suspected the former, since he'd not noticed a similar difference between the Stormcrow and the Nova, which also had integral jump jets.
Perched on top of the school, Ace crouched the Huntsman and scanned what he could see of the area. A circle ten kilometers across was a large area, but 'mechs weren't exactly small. Combined with his elevation, Ace hoped to at least be able to spot signs of the two Burrocks.
Of course, that same elevation also made it relatively easy to see him. Ace's sensors pinged a 'mech's location to him just an instant before the computer warned him of inbound missiles.
He backpedaled the Huntsman and dropped off the back of the school, using his jump-jets to control the fall. The anti-missile system spun to life, throwing packets of flechettes into the path of the missiles as the electronic counter-missiles fought to confuse the warheads' sensors.
In the end, the combined effect of both systems and of the building itself reduced the missiles that got through to a tiny handful. Armor was still chipped away as those missiles struck home - first blood to Clan Burrock - but Ace was more focused on an interesting detail.
The 'mech his sensors had spotted was not Siddiq's Mad Dog. Her missiles had come from another direction.
Looking at the map, Ace moved through the streets and tried to get inside their heads. He had to assume that they were at least communicating with each other. They would have to assume he knew roughly where the senior of the two Khans was, simply by backtracking the missiles, but did they know he'd detected Polcyzk?
If they did not, then they might expect him to move up and try to take out the Mad Dog first. He would certainly benefit by taking one of them out early on, and destroying the Mad Dog would leave Ace with a range advantage over the Stormcrow.
If that was what they expected him to do… Ace eyed the best route towards where he'd seen the missiles come from. He'd be crossing the gorge, and that might leave him open to being ambushed.
The close confines of the gorge would deprive him of what advantages he had against Polcyzk, which could only climb down into it in a few places. They didn't expect him to have a Huntsman, but if they expected a Stormcrow then they would know he had jump-jets and…
Ace smirked. The best place to jump across the gorge and avoid entering it at all was very close to where his sensors had picked up the Stormcrow. And if Polcyzk was trying to ambush him there…
Pushing the Huntsman as fast as it would go, Ace headed for the ruins of the nearest bridge across the gorge. It would be trickier to cross there without using his jump jets, but if he could manage it then he'd be across without making himself an obvious target and perhaps be able to catch the other mechwarrior offguard.
Reaching the bridge, Ace eyed the collapsed roadway. It had broken at an angle, each side forming a ramp down into the gorge. Years of erosion had damaged them but he was fairly sure he'd be able to walk down one and then up the other. It would take a little care, but…
An alarmed bleep gave him a fraction of a second to respond before the Stormcrow emerged from the shadow of a building overlooking the bridge.
Slamming both feet down, Ace fired his jump jets, sending the little 'mech skittering sideways just ahead of the furious beams of the six lasers in the Stormcrow's right arm. The one that connected carved a trench into his own 'mech's left arm.
Ace fired both PPCs, aiming for the left shoulder, but Polcyzk twisted aside and only one of the particle beams hit home. It tore apart the armor of the joint, but it wasn't a crippling blow and the arm came up, tracking Ace's mech.
He was well within the range bracket of the autocannon. Ace flung the Huntsman forward, deliberately tripping the 'mech on the edge of the bridge. He was inverted in the cockpit as the fifty-ton mech slid face first down the fallen bridge, weaker rear armor exposed. However, the Burrock hadn't anticipated the move and the stream of depleted uranium shells from his autocannon cut through the air above and behind the Huntsman.
Ace mis-judged the slide and the vertical fin jutting up above the Huntsman's shoulders took the brunt of the slide coming to an end. He kicked off with one of the 'mech's legs and rolled it over and onto the other slope as Polcyzk tried to finish him off with his lasers - firing them in sequence to try to manage the heat burden he'd be unleashing. No doubt he would fire the autocannon as soon as the next clip of rounds loaded.
Throwing up both arms of the Huntsman, Ace fired both PPCs up and into the chin of the Stormcrow.
Twin beams of energized particles bit up into the ventral surface and dug up at an angle. Intimately familiar with the design, Ace knew that the beams were digging up and into the shielding of the fusion reactor. The blossoming heat signature showed he'd hit it at least once.
Polcyzk cut off his lasers, marking that he likely couldn't risk the heat burden of them now. But the autocannon was tracking in and with the mess of damage to the Huntsman's shoulders by the laser fire, it'd be more than enough.
Ace opened the jump-jets up and the Huntsman rocketed up the slope, cannoning into the Stormcrow's underside as it stood at the top of the impromptu ramp.
The slightly heavier 'mech was thrown backwards as the Diamond Shark was rocked against his restraints by the collision. The impact left both 'mechs sprawled on their backs, what was left of the Huntsman's fin between the Stormcrow's broad feet.
Both PPCs were already up and aimed more or less at the other 'mech, Ace triggered them one after the other.
His left shot hit the joint between the left arm and torso, tearing the shoulder apart. Autocannon rounds detonated as the ammo feed broke, safety mechanisms venting the cascade of explosions down and throwing the Stormcrow up off the ground briefly.
As it came down, Ace's second shot speared into the damage caused by two other hits to the underside of the torso.
Reactor containment gave up, and the Stormcrow disappeared in a blaze of superheated air. The explosion slammed into Ace's cockpit and the armorglass cracked. He blacked out briefly, vision hazy even when he opened his eyes again. He knew he had only been stunned for a moment, the heat of the 'mech from the rapid salvos had not yet faded significantly.
On animal instinct, Ace scrabbled the Huntsman back onto the broken bridge and slid down, getting out of view in case Siddiq had arrived to finish him off. The 'mech slid down, doing more damage to his rear armor, but landed more or less upright at the bottom of the gorge.
He opened his microphone, tried to speak and only coughed.
"Say again, Galaxy Commander?" Ulric Kerensky's voice was faint, the channel full of static. "Do you wish to concede?"
Ace shook his head, then recalled that this was only a voice channel. "Neg. Khan Polcyzk appears to have been defeated, I did not see if he ejected?"
There was a disdainful note to Kerensky's response: "Both Burrock Khans elected to disable their ejection seats, Galaxy Commander. You have succeeded in killing him."
Ace closed his eyes for a moment. "Unfortunate," he said at last and started the Huntsman down the gorge, heading back away from the town. He supposed that the pair felt obligated not to survive if defeated - taking full accountability for their predecessors' crimes and for losing the trial.
Assuming, of course, that they failed.
Taking stock, Ace saw that armor across the top and the back of the Huntsman was in poor condition. Worse, the crushing impact against the fin had damaged his long range sensors. The active probe gave him excellent close range capability, but above what was middling range for his PPCs, he'd have to eyeball his shots.
"Perhaps so," the Wolf Khan allowed in a more neutral tone and cut the channel.
Stalking along the gorge, Ace found one of the side ravines that allowed him to climb out without using his jump-jets and used it. The heat signature of jumping out might catch Siddiq's attention and if she caught him at long range she had most of her LRMs left.
The first problem was finding the Khan's Mad Dog. He'd emerged into the trees, not all that far from his best guess as to where Siddiq had fired on him from. It was unlikely that she was still there, but it was at least a starting point.
Ace tried to sidle his Huntsman through the trees, trying to avoid knocking too many of them over to give his location away. It was difficult, particularly getting used to a relatively humanoid 'mech, taking him back to lessons on his mother's Griffin, but after a while the knack came back to him and he was threading through the trees.
After several minutes, he found obvious traces of a 'mech moving through the trees with much less care. Dropping the Huntsman to one knee, he scanned the ground and wasn't surprised to find footprints left by a Mad Dog. It wasn't hard to recognise once you were looking for them - every single Clan used the Mad Dog and a surprising number built it. Ace had done some training on it in the sibko and while he didn't like it much, he was certainly capable of recognising its footprints.
Moving into the trail - he couldn't knock over trees that had already been brushed aside, Ace started trotting after the larger 'mech, keeping one eye on his sensors. He could be reasonably sure Siddiq was ahead of him… but how far ahead? And had she looped back?
It might be paranoid, but he'd been caught once in a trap already. If the khan had laid the trail deliberately, she might have then broken off and found an ambush spot overlooking it.
Ace was extremely glad for his active probe when it spotted a problem before he did.
Siddiq wasn't waiting in ambush… well, not the way he'd speculated.
The active probe determined that someone (no prizes for guessing who) had laid a minefield across the trail. At least some of Siddiq's LRMs must be Thunder LRMs - each salvo of which was a field deployed minefield. Walking into this wouldn't have taken out his Huntsman, but it would have added more damage and it would be obvious, letting her know where Ace was.
What she would do then, Ace wasn't sure. Perhaps she would simply accept the damage as one more step towards his eventual defeat and continue some other strategy, or perhaps she was waiting somewhere out of sight ready to engage while he was distracted by the mines.
If it was the former, there was nothing Ace could do about it. He considered avoiding the mines and continuing, but there was every chance that this too would lead him into another ambush. Better to spring this one and see if it presented any opportunities.
The Huntsman had no hands, since each arm ended in a PPC muzzle. However, it wasn't entirely impossible to use them as crude manipulators, using each arm as one half of a claw. Thus, Ace managed to wrench one tree out of the ground and heaved it into the minefield.
The tree wasn't close to the weight of a 'mech, but Thunder LRMs had relatively simple sensors and a full ton of wood was enough to set some off. Explosions tore the tree bark to splinters.
Almost immediately, a salvo of LRMs arced up above the treetops to plunge down onto the explosions. Though fired blindly, aimed for the location rather than having a lock, they came in precisely onto the tree's location and close enough to Ace that the Huntsman's antimissile system triggered, wasting flechettes on missiles that wouldn't have hit it.
Only an instant later, the crashing and falling of trees marked the Mad Dog's approach, popping up on the extreme edge of the active probe's reach.
Ace almost triggered his jump-jets to get a clear line of fire at it, but realized at the last minute that this would give Siddiq a similarly clear line of sight on him. Instead he backpaced quickly, keeping the trail in view and hopefully buying time before Siddiq realised that he hadn't fallen into the trap. The electronic countermeasures would make the Huntsman harder to spot, so if she knew he was using them it might not surprise her that she wasn't picking him up at first.
He could tell the moment she spotted the Huntsman as the Mad Dog, approaching from Ace's right, suddenly veered towards him. She must have concluded that since she was detected, it was better to commit.
Tracking her via the active probe, Ace fired his PPCs into the trees one at a time. The particle beams ignited the leaves and tree trunks as they blasted through them. He wasn't sure if any of the beams managed to penetrate the tree cover, but it was worth a try and the Diamond Shark's judge of the timing was right - both weapons had cycled and his heat was almost back into the green when the Mad Dog powered through the last of the tree cover.
Both fired, Ace firing his jump jets to try to evade the inbound fire.
The airborne Huntsman was rocked by explosions - he'd successfully avoided the two large lasers but despite the best efforts of his anti-missile system and countermeasures, half the SRMs crashed into him.
In return, only one of his PPCs hit, narrowly missing the 'nose' of the torso and crashing into the right leg of the Mad Dog.
The Huntsman hit the tree cover and laser pulses from the trio of medium lasers in the right arm stripped away branches and leaves, opening a path for more SRMs that corkscrewed through the treeline, seeking out Ace's mech.
The missiles crossed paths with Ace's PPCs and he swore at least one exploded as a particle beam clipped it, before more flechettes plucked three more out of the air. Both beams slammed directly into the face of the Mad Dog's missile launchers. Nothing seemed to penetrate the thick armor, but a few tubes might be unavailable. Assuming that Siddiq even had LRMs left in her left torso - if she had the standard configuration B then she'd only carried a single ton and must have expended at least half already.
Both of them were wrestling with heat demands, and Ace sprinted the Huntsman to the right, trying to stay head of the pulse lasers' ability to track him from the Mad Dog's right arm.
It didn't work and as he crossed the open trail, Siddiq opened up with everything she had.
Two large lasers slashed away much of the frontal armor on the Huntsman's chest. Pulse lasers and SRMs flayed away at the left side of the smaller 'mech and the PPC in that arm failed in a spectacular but ultimately irrelevant detonation of its fully charged capacitors.
But the rapid turn had exposed the damaged right side of the Mad Dog again and Ace fired his remaining PPC into the damage he'd already inflicted on the SRM launchers.
The remaining stored Streak SRMs blew up, venting out of the back of the heavy omnimech like a mighty jump jet that spun the torso against its maximum torso traverse - and the right arm with the three deadly pulse lasers went flying off into the trees.
Already struggling with the heat of the alpha strike, the reactor damage must have left the interior of the Mad Dog baking. It lurched wildly and seemed about to shut down before Siddiq tried to limp back into such cover as the trees would have provided.
Ace wasn't about to allow that and he lined up his PPC again, firing into the already damaged right leg, stripping away the remaining armor, the whiplash of charged particles inflicting further damage on the myomers beneath.
Impressively, Siddiq didn't fall, but the effort made any attempt to complete her escape impossible. She turned, trying to bring her two remaining lasers to bear, even if firing them both would build up far more heat than her cooling system could bear.
Ace used his jump jets to leap up and narrowly avoided the shot from the one laser Siddiq used. His return shot blew out the other side of the Mad Dog - disarming it almost literally as the left arm hung limply and unable to bring the lasers to bear.
"Khan Siddiq," Ace greeted through his speakers. "I do not think you can win now."
The reply was raw with frustrated anger. "Finish it then."
"I gather you disabled your ejection seat."
"A Khan who cannot defend her clan does not deserve to live," Siddiq told him, nothing left of the urbanity she'd shown in their first meeting. "Remember that, if you continue to rise."
And then, still limping, she urged the Mad Dog towards the Huntsman.
Ace could have blown away what was left of the right leg and had her at his mercy. But then she'd just demand bondsref… and he wasn't eager to face that again.
So he gave the last Burrock Khan what she wanted.
A direct hit by his PPC immolated her cockpit, erasing her from existence.
The Mad Dog fell face flat in front of the Huntsman.
"Khan Kerensky," Ace invited.
"I confirm the result of the Trial of Refusal," the oathmaster agreed. "The vote of the Grand Council has been upheld. Clan Burrock is hereby deemed to have been absorbed by Clan Diamond Shark." He spoke with no approval or condemnation, simply stating a fact.
Ace lowered the PPC and watched his heat gauge sink towards baseline.
Another voice came through the channel. "Khan Sennet," a woman said bleakly. "I, Gracia Colombo, until now Loremaster of Clan Burrock, recognise and accept the outcome of this Trial. The former Clan Council… stands disbanded. Our warriors, our scientists, technicians, our merchants and our laborers… are yours to command. We… We are no longer Burrocks. I ask that you teach us to be Diamond Sharks." Her voice almost broke.
"This," Ace's Khan replied, "is the responsibility of a Clan that absorbs another. You are our warriors, our merchants and scientists, our technicians and laborers. We will work together as one Clan, from this day forth, seyla."
Ace mouthed the same word, as did Colombo, wherever she was.
"In twenty-four hours, before our warriors depart Camlann," Sennet continued. "We will hold a meeting of the Clan Council, including all our bloodnamed, to discuss the path of Clan Diamond Shark going forwards. Your voices will be as welcome as any Diamond Shark's… save those implicated in the treatment with the Dark Caste. To all others, we offer redemption and a new path, one where you and we shall find a new unity."
Silverdale, Alshain
Clan Smoke Jaguar Occupation Zone
3 September 3051
Dorian Wirth seemed out of place calling the Clan Council to order, Sarah Weaver thought. Of course, the Star Colonel had only just been elected as loremaster in place of Edmund Hoyt, so that was understandable. It was not clear yet if Hoyt would survive, much less be in condition to fight to reclaim his place. Another part of the discomfort might come from the location though.
The Warlord of Alshain's palace was in the archaic style favored by the Combine. While she found it mostly inferior, Sarah would concede that the heavy timbers of this hall had some ambience now that they were draped in Smoke Jaguar banners rather than those of House Kurita. There was still something of a color-clash, but it was better than some of the alternatives. Plans to demolish the palace as soon as a proper headquarters building was erected were in place. The Catslair would mark the Smoke Jaguar's dominance over the city, the planet and all the worlds that they occupied. It would be a few years before it was ready though, the site was still being cleared of the existing buildings.
Dorian was not the only new presence on the dais. Kincaid Furey had been confirmed as killed in Fayettevil - the Kungsarme squad responsible had been seen boasting about it on public broadcasts on the world - and Sarah had taken her proper place as senior Khan. Beside her, Brandon Howell had been elevated to serve as her deputy. She did not trust him fully, but he had served well on Camlann. Perhaps he would continue to do so as they rebuilt the touman. Only then could they repudiate the truce Showers had agreed to.
As if summoned by her thought of him, the former ilKhan rose to his feet and Dorian recognised his right to speak.
"Trothkin," he greeted them all. "Clan Smoke Jaguar has come far since I was your Khan. Across the great gulf of space to the Inner Sphere, and then carving out a long wound into the Scavenger Lords' domains. There have been stumbles, I will not pretend otherwise, but surely no Clan is more feared now than Clan Smoke Jaguar."
He paused. "Shall we let it rest at that? Shall we stop here and let other Clans take their fill?"
There were shouts of "Neg!" from around the room - both the side where those present sat and the other where holograms represented those elsewhere.
"Neg, of course not!" Showers shouted. "We will gather our strength. We will purge the treacherous ComStar from our worlds. And then we will strike for Terra. For now we know their strengths and their weaknesses. And we will be the ilClan."
"Building strength will not be easy," Sarah cut in firmly. "We know that few Clans build as many battlemechs as we Smoke Jaguars, nor such fine ones. But it will take time for the production of our new Arctic Cheetah and Ebon Jaguars to make up the losses we have taken - and then there are years it will take for sibkos to produce warriors."
Not to mention obtaining enough HPGs to oust ComStar. The Diamond Sharks had actually cut the availability of their surplus even further, which was sending the costs spiralling.
Jin Mehta stood. "My sources report that Clan Steel Viper and Clan Diamond Shark have made a pact," he reported. "The first have shared designs to at least two battlemech designs in exchange for cooperation in constructing factories to increase their production."
"Are you suggesting we should crawl to some other Clan for help?" Howell asked, incredulously.
Sarah saw the Galaxy Commander start to shake his head, but Leo Showers spoke first. "Neg!" he roared. "Never will the Jaguar bow to any other Clan. No, we shall prepare and when these factories are complete we will take them for our own. That is the way of the Clans!"
There was a cheer from around the hall.
"Further," he added, "The Steel Vipers are at least the one Clan we know that has not fallen into the degeneracy of choosing warriors from the freebirths! Every Viper taken as isorla will be a suitable candidate to be brought into our Clan as warriors. Their Clan has no place in the Inner Sphere, save if we choose to share one so where else can they turn?"
"And will you lead that effort?" Sarah asked. It would be a neat way to get rid of him: send the fallen ilKhan back to the homeworlds to fight against the other Clans and leave the conquest of the Inner Sphere to leaders who were not failures.
"For once you speak wisely," Jin Mehta declared. Sarah flushed at the backhanded insult but then felt blood drain from her face as he continued: "Leo Showers led us well as Khan before, let us appoint him once more!" The burly warrior sneered at Weaver. "Better him than the coward that fled on Camlann."
She was going to kill him, she swore.
"Loremaster," Brandon Howell declared. "We have a measure to vote on."
Stravag! He must be in on it! Sarah concluded.
Leo Showers stepped towards the dais, shoulders squared, without a shred of humility. "Would you have me as your Khan, Jaguars? Sons and daughters of Franklin Osis, the true inheritors of the Founder's vision?"
"AFF! AFF!" they shouted.
Sarah stepped forwards. "Operation Revival failed," she reminded them. "And through it's path, we have been humiliated by Lincoln Osis and Kincaid Furey, both of whom were appointed to this office with the support of Leo Showers." She looked at her former superior. "Is that the quality you look for in a Khan, one who appoints -"
But they kept howling and her words were almost entirely drowned out by the enthusiasm that Showers had gathered almost effortlessly from them.
And then he raised his hands and suddenly Showers commanded their silence!
"Vote," Showers ordered. "Who is for me?"
Dorian brought up the voting counter and it leapt upwards as warrior after warrior voted for a return of Leo Showers. Not all of them, but more than enough. Every vote against him - and Sarah was realistic enough to know they were not all for her - was outnumbered by another three or four for the former ilKhan.
"Traitor," she hissed to Howell.
He grimaced. "It was always going to happen, Sarah. It was you or me and I chose me." His voice grew bitter. "I do not know what he asked of you, but I paid a price for this seat."
There had been no offer from Showers, Sarah thought. Not at all. He played Howell for a fool, and… a white-hot rod of anger threaded through her, he had outright discarded her.
"Do not worry," Brandon Howell said as he stood to very visibly cast his vote for Leo Showers. "You will still have a place in the leadership. We will need a garrison commander on Huntress."
That was the last straw and before Dorian Wirth was done calling for any holdouts to cast their votes, Sarah lunged for her saKhan.
A red haze descended as she crashed against Howell, bringing him to the ground. He brought his knee up, trying to get leverage between them but Sarah slid sideways and jabbed her elbow beneath his ribs, driving the air from his lungs. When he doubled up, she brought her head down and sharply butted him in the face, breaking his nose.
Howell caught her by her short mohawk and yanked her over to the side, rolling over to get above her. One hand hammered down and almost crushed her throat - Sarah ducked her chin and thought the hit might have broken her jaw. But there was no time for her to worry about that.
Grabbing his arm, she wrenched it around and there was a scream as the joint dislocated.
Howell tried to throttle her with his one good hand but she caught the hand in both of hers and broke one finger. Then she got one knee up and had the leverage to kick him up and off her.
Scrambling to her feet, Sarah found herself swaying slightly - it took a moment to realize that there weren't two Brandon Howell's coming at her and that cost her as a kick to the ribs knocked her back to the floor - off the dais entirely.
He leapt down after her, but Sarah rolled up on her shoulders and let him spear himself on her extended legs. The impact seemed to hit every bone between her spine to her toes, but Howell crashed to the floor, howling in agony.
Kipping up, feeling a further stab from her chest that warned of broken ribs, Sarah kicked the treacherous saKhan in the head and then when he clutched at it, she took the opportunity to kick him again in the groin.
The scream that came from Howell was shrill and that of a wounded and helpless prey. Sarah showed him the proper mercy for such: she slammed her heel down on his adam's apple and pressed down until he was silent.
The hall was also quiet, she realized. The gathered Smoke Jaguars were all staring at her and she glared back. If they would not have done the same then they were not of her Clan.
The clap of hands together drew Sarah's eyes back to the dais. Leo Showers smiled down at her. "There we see a true Smoke Jaguar warrior," he declared. "There is only room for one junior Khan and Sarah Weaver has proven herself the best choice, has she not?" he asked rhetorically. "Who would challenge her fury?"
(Was it her imagination or was there a flicker of fear in his eyes?)
"Beyond that," Showers continued, "If she rather than Furey had bid for Camlann then we would have landed with enough of our warriors to carry the day. Who knows what might have happened if the other Clans had seen that. Perhaps fewer would have shown such cowardice." He shook his head theatrically. "We will never know, but I can think of no better choice to lead the Smoke Jaguars with me."
When he extended his hand towards her, Sarah was tempted to drag him down and do to him what she had just done to Howell. But her chest reminded her of the ribs and when she tried to speak, her jaw failed her.
Besides, even if I could speak to challenge him, he could call numbers equal to the balance of the vote - can I beat him and three others? Not today. But one day, she decided. I will kill him one day. Grudgingly, Sarah took Showers' hand and he helped her up onto the dais.
"Taking from the Steel Vipers will not be our only challenge in the homeworlds," Showers continued, returning to the grand scale. "Clan Blood Spirit have taken offense at the Diamond Sharks for their presumption in absorbing Clan Burrock, and Clan Ice Hellion are attempting to prove their strength against every other Clan they cross paths with. We will show them that Clan Smoke Jaguar remains foremost among the Clans. We will take from every Clan that is less than us in order to build up our strength - and no clan is our equal! - and then we will tear the heart out of the Inner Sphere. Terra will be ours, and then as the ilClan we will establish a new Star League!"
There is nothing there that I disagree with, Sarah thought, and spat blood onto the wooden floor. But you presume that it is you who will be elevated to ilKhan by such a victory. And you will never see Terra with your own eyes. If the spheroids do not kill you first, I will.